


Pull The Wool over their Eyes

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [25]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Torture, Witch Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Bring the Witch Hunters the vile Triss Merigold, they won’t just open the gate for you, they’re likely to let you present her to Menge personally.Pull The Wool over their Eyesto deceive someone in hopes of taking advantage of them
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally was going to skip this part of the storyline, buttttt it ends up being discussed later on in depth.

The fact that Dandelion had gotten captured by the Temple Guard came as a complete surprise. It shouldn’t have - of course the worse possible outcome had happened, it was Dandelion, after all - but Geralt had spent so long convincing himself that the Church wasn’t involved that it made his blood run cold.

He’d arranged to meet Triss outside the Temple Guard’s headquarters. She claimed she had some sort of plan to get the bard out. When she arrived, she handed Geralt a pair of cuffs.

“Take these shackles,” she said, holding out her wrists. “Put them on me.”

“Uh… Triss?” Geralt raised an eyebrow, glancing around the square. It was late, so there weren’t many people present, but there were enough. “Sure you wanna do this out here? With everyone watching?”

She was unimpressed. “This may come as a surprise, but shackles do have a use outside the bedroom.” Since Geralt hadn’t moved fast enough to shackle her, she put one on her wrist herself, then held out her hand for him to finish the job, which he still didn’t.

“Think,” Triss urged. “Bring the Witch Hunters the vile Triss Merigold, they won’t just open the gate for you, they’re likely to let you present her to Menge personally.”

“No way,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “Too risky.”

“Dandelion’s life is on the line,” she argued. “Ciri’s too. No such thing as too risky.”

“Triss….” Geralt closed his eyes. “Think about it. Really want to walk into the Lion’s Den of your own free will? And in chains?”

“Nice of you to worry. But I’ve made my decision. And I won’t change it.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive trigger warning for torture.

With Triss taken away by the Witch Hunters, Geralt stepped into Menge’s office. If he were human - or even less of a Witcher - his heart would be pounding in his chest. But as it were, he kept his breathing even, his heart rate smooth.

At times, it was far too easy to fall into the mask of an emotionless Mutant. _Dandelion would be disappointed_ , he thought. 

Menge didn’t look up from his desk as Geralt and the Witch Hunter entered. “I told you not to let anyone in.”

“Unless they had information concerning Phillipa Eilhart….” Geralt’s escort gestured to him, saying, “This Witcher says he’s got just that.”

“Anyone can claim that,” said Menge dismissively.

 _“We’ll start with your pinky nail.”_ The Witcher Hunters probably couldn’t hear the voices from down the hall where they’d taken Triss, but Geralt could, and he grit his teeth. _“Nah, let’s go for your ring finger.”_

But they certainly heard Triss’ scream a moment later.

“But it’s not that easy to bring us Triss Merigold,” said Geralt’s escort, nodding in the direction of the noise.

Menge turned to look through the wall, toward the screaming. “Is that who I hear? Very well, I’ll go see her shortly. But for now… sit.”

Geralt stepped forward, sitting slowly in the chair across from Menge, watching the religious fanatic with a carefully crafted expression of indifference.

“Have a drink, Witcher.”

He raised an eyebrow, asking, “Why the drink?”

“Triss Merigold has been captured. An occasion worthy of a toast, don’t you think?” Menge pushed a bejeweled goblet across the desk. _Silver_ , the Witcher noted with interest. He wondered what deceased mage they’d stolen it from.

Geralt picked up the goblet in silence, taking a short sip. “Cidarian.”

“A 1261 vintage,” said Menge. “The year of the massacre of Cintra.”

 _Fuck you_ , thought Geralt.

Down the hall, Triss screamed again. Geralt dug his fingers into his leg to stop from reacting.

“Kurt,” said Menge with a sigh. “Please see why Miss Merigold screams so convincingly. Perhaps she needs something? Hot irons for instance?”

“Speaking of metal,” Geralt said as his escort ducked out of the room. “This goblet’s silver. Making sure I’m not something? A doppler for instance?”

“Ah- it’s immediately apparent. A professional. I find that refreshing.” Menge studied him, still unnervingly calm. “But to answer your question - one can never be too careful. You’d be surprised how many who come here turn to rancid jelly as soon as they grip the goblet.”

“Got a silver sword on my back,” Geralt pointed out, nodding his head over his shoulder. “That not enough?”

“It proves nothing. Dopplers can change their bodies at will, into materials that look and feel like silver as well…. Materials that have none of silver’s useful properties, naturally.”

“Sounds like you’re an expert on dopplers.”

“I’d expect a Witcher of all…. Things… to understand the value of knowing one’s enemy.”

More screams. Geralt schooled his face, remaining impassionate.

Menge barely glanced toward the sound, saying, “I shall pay you twice the usual reward for Merigold.”

“Awfully generous.” And suspicious. “Why?”

_“No! No more! I- I can’t….”_

“Well, you’ve turned in your lover,” Menge gave him a look of clearly faked sympathy. “The emotional trauma it must entail… you deserve compensation.”

“Yeah, I’ve ploughed Triss,” he said with a shrug. “But what does it matter if you’re paying gold for her head?” Sometimes it was just as well that people thought he had no emotions.

“Oh yeah,” Menge chuckled. “I nearly forgot…. The mutations strip Witchers of feelings.”

_“Haha! The Bitch Bites! Let’s put a collar on her. Dimeritium might calm her down…”_

“You surprise me, Geralt,” said Menge. “Perhaps we can make a deal after all. So. You know something about Phillipa. But I imagine you won’t part from this information for free.”

He’d have to play his cards just right. He couldn’t go from claiming not to care about Triss to demanding answers about Dandelion. “It’s simple… Free Dandelion.”” They’d had the bard for days, they had to know what he was. “He… belongs to me.” Geralt allowed a slight scent to waft from him, making sure Menge could tell he was an Alpha. _Let him draw his own conclusions. It won’t be hard._

“A heretical bard for information about Phillipa,” Menge mused. “Tempting, I must admit. But still. I must say no.” The fanatic shook his head. “But if it’s an Omegan whore you want, I have them by the dozens.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, but this one already knows how I like him.” Disgust rolled in Geralt’s stomach. “It took me a while to break him in.”

Menge tutted. “You see, I’ve a magnificent execution planned for Dandelion. In Oxenfurt. A breaking wheel, flaying alive and so forth. It should work wonders for the morals of the academic youth and townsfolk. Not to mention, remind his fellow Omegas of their place.”

Geralt pretended to be interested. “When’s this morally instructive spectacle to take place?”

“When I issue the order.” Menge’s eyes narrowed slightly. “In person. Dandelion shall remain beneath temple isle until then. “

He’d pushed too hard, Geralt realized. Menge was starting to have questions. Thankfully, another scream distracted them.

“It might take some time, I’m afraid.” The fanatic seemed disappointed, shaking his head. “I’d like to have him in heat for the show, and he’s only just finished one. Though, the poisons he took for so long to hide his true nature might cause his next to come sooner.”

Geralt’s heartbeat quickened, but he forced it to slow. Not trusting his voice, he could only nod. He could worry about what had transpired during the heat later, once Dandelion was safe.

“Though,” Menge leaned back. “I do have one question.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He wasn’t marked. If we’d known he was yours… well, by law we would have contacted you.” Anywhere else, a mated Dandelion would have been turned over to Geralt for punishment. But then, Novigrad under the Church of Eternal Fire was it’s own unique hell. “Typically when someone intends to keep only one Omega they bond them to mark their property, though, I suppose a Witcher might be… unaware of human customs.”

The Witcher had to think quickly. “Why would I?” he tilted his head. “He knew who owned him. I don’t care who he fucks as long as I get to use him.”

Menge laughed. “Ah, that is one school of thought. I suppose that explains why you would allow him on suppressants.”

Geralt nodded stiffly.

“Anyway,” Menge waved his hand. “So sorry I cannot be of help…. Perhaps we can agree to different terms? I’m more than happy to offer you a choice of Omegas…. Why I even have some here, in the basement.”

“They’ll have to be pretty tempting,” Geralt said softy. “The bard had a skilled throat.” He felt disgusting. 

Menga chuckled. “I think you’ll find them to your liking… they aren’t all heretics, pretending to be Alphas like that pet of yours. A few of them are the well trained pets of mages.”

“Sounds… interesting.”

“Come. I’ll show you.” Menge stood, motioning for Geralt to follow him. “But first… let’s see how Miss Merigold fares. It’s grown suspiciously quiet in there.”

Geralt trailed behind the fanatic, letting him push open the door to the torture chamber. Dead Witch Hunters littered the floor. Menge turned, for the first time, a look of panic on his face. Before Geralt could react, he exploded into a ball of light and hit the floor.

“I hope you got your information,” whispered Triss, blood dripping from her hand where the Witch Hunters had removed her fingernails.

“Yeah,” Geralt said.

“Let’s get out of here.” Triss wrapped her cloak around herself with a scowl.

Geralt watched as she headed for the door, but he shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Is Dandelion here?” she asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Then-“

“We need to find the basement,” he said. “Menge’s keeping Omegas down there.”

She nodded, and a slight grin formed at the edge of her lips. “I can’t wait to kill a few more Witch Hunters.” 


End file.
